


Just a Body

by Straight_Outta_Hobbiton



Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 13:24:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2430395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton/pseuds/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo was born with a uterus. As far as he's concerned, this means nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Body

As far as Ichigo is concerned, he’s a boy.

Yes, he’s a little curvy, and yes, his body has a uterus and a vagina and all sorts of interesting things, but he’s a boy, goddammit, no matter how female his body happens to be.

Masaki understood. It’s why she stopped buying him dresses when he was seven and signed him up for karate instead of ballet.

That’s where he really made friends with Tatsuki, who punched a bigger boy in the face when they called Ichigo a girl and made him cry.

Isshin doesn’t understand, not like Masaki did, but he lets it go, lets Ichigo wear the boys’ uniform to school and furtively has Ryuuken correct Ichigo’s birth certificate for his thirteenth birthday, something to soothe the misery Ichigo feels after he gets his period.

Ichigo never bothers trying to get the medications to correct his issues— he’s too young, still growing, and is honestly uninterested in the money involved int it. He’s a boy, he’s not stupid. His father has to put food on the table. The girls need to go to school overseas, like they want. He’s not going to take that from them.

He grows tall and slender, with a flat chest and rippling muscles thanks to a workout regime that would make most people cry and bulks him up enough to make his breasts almost unnoticeable. For his fifteenth birthday, Yuzu and Karin get him a binder, and he realizes he probably has the best sisters in the world.

Then Rukia shows up, and literally shoves his soul out of his body.

It’s oddly gratifying to find that, in his most basic self, he has something between his legs, no matter how unusual it feels. Plus— no jiggly bits on his chest to get in the way during his fight. That counts for something big, as far as he’s concerned.

Rukia stays in his room, and Ichigo refuses to change in front of her. He would anyway, but there’s something that makes him cold inside at the idea that she might see. No one knows— or, at least, most people seem to have forgotten. He was relatively young when his mother called him her son, so most of his classmates and even teachers don’t know— though he does have a doctor’s note from his father that lets him get changed separately from the other students for gym.

It’s all ruined when he wakes up naked and bandaged in Kisuke’s shouten with the shopkeeper lying next to him, frowning slightly as Ichigo’s hand instinctively goes to his chest as he sits up.

His eyes sting, and he looks away, curling up despite the pain in his ribs to hide his face in his knees.

“Does Kuchiki-san know?”

Ichigo shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak.

Kisuke hums.

“Inoue-chan likely doesn’t, and not Ishida-kun, either,” he counts off, tone light. “Chado-kun?”

“…” Ichigo shifts, taking a deep, shaky breath.

“Yeah. He knows. So does Tatsuki. And my family, obviously.”

“So… Yoruichi’s teasing… Your reaction… Is an act?”

“I’m a boy, Urahara-san. That doesn’t mean I’m into an exhibitionist’s tits."

“Hm.” Kisuke almost smiles. "Well, you needn’t worry about me, Kurosaki-kun. It’s not like I care— could you please lay down? I don’t want all my hard work being undone by some teenaged angsting, if you please.”

The orangette finally looks at him, and Kisuke looks back, an eyebrow arched questioningly as he gestures at the futon.

Ichigo obeys and almost instantly falls asleep again. It’s not until later, when he wakes up the second time that the chaos begins.

Ichigo spends a few weeks in Soul Society. Going to bathroom the first few times is strange, but beyond that, everything’s pretty fantastic, especially when Rangiku asks him back to her room. Yoruichi scares the shit out of him, but Rangiku is surprisingly sweet and understanding, especially when she finds out he’s a virgin.

His human body is… Uncomfortable, when he puts it back on.

“What’s wrong?” Kisuke asks when Ichigo rubs his chest for the tenth time in fifteen minutes. “Are you in pain?”

Ichigo shakes his head and glances into the main shop, where Ishida and Chado seem suitably occupied by something Inoue seems to be… reenacting.

He looks back to the blond.

“Forgot what it was like to have… You know.” Ichigo shrugs. “I’ll get used to it.”

Kisuke tilts his chin questioningly.

“Have you thought about surgery?” he asks.

Ichigo sighs.

“It’s expensive,” he says. “Just the meds are expensive. I’m okay how I am, right now. I… I can deal. Besides,” he adds. “I’ve kept it under wraps well enough so far, right?”

“Secrets have a way of coming out, Kurosaki-kun,” Kisuke points out somberly. “You ought to be careful.”

“When it comes to this, I always am.”

Shinji is a creep, Ichigo decides within ten seconds of meeting him, especially when Shinji asks him, quite bluntly, if he’s always dressed that way.

Ichigo stiffens.

“What way?” he asks sharply, turning his gaze on the blond properly for the first time since the beginning of this fucking irritating conversation.

Shinji gestures at him.

“Ya know. Like a man. Ya a lesbian, or somethin’?”

Ichigo goes very white.

“What are you talking about?”

Shinji makes a face.

“C’mon, Kurosaki, how stupid do ya think I am? It’s obvious. Ya’ve got tampons tucked in yer overnight bag.”

“You went through my stuff?” Ichigo’s gone red, and something close to fear is thundering through his blood.

Shinji shrugs, eyes glinting strangely.

“Course I did. Yer a stranger in my home. Besides, I was curious as ta what sort of person ya were. So. Are ya a lesbian, or what?”

Ichigo clenches his jaw.

“You’ve seen me out of my body,” he says tightly. “I’m a boy.”

Shinji gives him a long look.

“So that’s how it is.”

Ichigo looks away, hands clenched into fists in his lap.

“Yeah. That’s how it is.”

Shinji shrugs and it’s never brought up again, for which Ichigo is grateful.

He hides his tampons better, though, after that.

Time goes by, and Aizen kidnaps Orihime. Ichigo fights, has his heart ripped out, put back, etcetera. He eventually comes face to face with the bastard.

“You know, Kurosaki-chan,” Aizen remarks when he comes close enough to press a hand to Ichigo’s chest. “I bet you would’ve been beautiful in a dress. You certainly were a pretty little girl, as I recall.”

There are people around, though Ichigo isn’t sure if they can hear. Regardless, his fury is sparked, face flushed red with embarrassment, and he attacks. Viciously.

When he wakes up, a month after the fight, a month after he as good as signed away his powers, he doesn’t notice anything different until Rukia disappears from his sight and he has to go to the bathroom.

He’s never run so fast in his human life.

Kisuke, for once, is in the shop part of the Shouten, and Ichigo catches him by surprise when he tackles him, arms wrapping around the blond in a bone-crushing hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you—“

“For— for what?” Kisuke’s struggling for breath, but Ichigo doesn’t let go, only loosening his grip slightly so the man doesn’t sound like an asthmatic.

“Don’t play dumb, asshole,” Ichigo mutters, face buried in the shopkeeper’s shoulder. “You know what.”

“Oh, your body?” Kisuke shifts slightly, so he can see Ichigo’s face. “There was an obvious error in the make up, I had to fix it.”

Ichigo grins, and his eyes are stinging again. He wants to cry around this asshole too often, he thinks as he presses his face into the man’s shoulder again.

“You’re the best, getaboushi,” he grunts, warmth bubbling up through his chest when he realizes his voice just sounds like that, no effort necessary. “Don’t let it go to your head, but you’re the best. Thank you.”

There’s another beat of silence, and then the shopkeeper’s arms come up to wrap around the teen’s shoulders.

“Anything,” he says simply. “Anything for my favorite student.”


End file.
